The Lord of the Rings, The Third Age
by Sonangan
Summary: When Middle Earth was darkening and evil was stirring it was the fellowship that forged the plan to save all. But what of this tale, the tale of a group that was helping from behind the spotlight. Novelisation of the game with minor changes.
1. Chapter 1 The Gondorian

**Chapter 1 The Gondorian**

_The world of Middle Earth, is changing. The beauty of the elves fades. It _

_passes into legend, into myth, into dreams. The ancient spirits of earth, fire,_

_water and air that once roamed this earth freely, are forgotten. But it was not_

_always so. In Eregion long ago the elves were given secret knowledge to forge_

_great rings of power. They were precious beyond all else, for within each was bound_

_the strength and will to rule. But they were all of them decieved, for the giver_

_of this knowledge was evil's great servant, Sauron. In the fires of Mordor_

_he forged in secret one ring to rule them all, and with it Sauron enslaved the_

_races of Middle Earth. But not all light diminished, for some stood fast. In one_

_final resistance the ring was cut from Sauron's hand. Issildur, ruler of all free_

_men performed this deed. But he became weak and the line of men failed._

_The ring escaped him as history became legend, legend became myth._

_And some things that should not have been forgotten, were lost. Thus the_

_third age of middle earth began, but the realms of man were divided and_

_their great cities were weakened. And in this age the evil powers again arise,_

_yet some hoped for unity in the face of coming darkness. To Rivendell the elves_

_called the greatest of all races, with them came Boromir, son of Gondor's steward._

_And there at a council of elders, a great and desperate plan was concieved. Join us_

_in our quest, face the power of Mordor and help to turn the tide. Welcome warrior_

_of Gondor. Your road here will not be an easy one, much will be risked in the_

_war that is to come. But you will justify my trust, this I know with all my heart..._

The gentle trotting of his horse woke the man from his slumber, he groaned, realising

it was raining lightly and in his dozing he had become soaked through, icy droplets

covered his plain but thick grey travel gear. He growled and shook the worst of it

out of his shoulder length brown hair, the resultant shower upset his horse and snorted

indignantly. His master sighed.

"Stop complaining." He grumbled. "You're an animal, deal with it." Having recieved

no answer, he began nodding off again. It was always the same dream, always the

same voice, always telling the same story. The story of the ring of Sauron and a request

for help. He didn't know what to make of it when he started having the dream a year ago,

and he certainly had no idea what to think of it now. Dreams were pointless to ponder on,

they would pass in time. Suddenly his horse stopped, he lifted his head to see but the road

ahead was clear.

"What is it you miserable beast?" He snarled, but then he felt it too. An icy chill had settled over

the skeletal forest around them, it flowed over the ground like an invisable mist. No animals called,

no rustling of leafs, the entire forest was holding it's breath. Then the suffocating silence was shattered

by a blood curdling scream. No creature of mortal blood could ever make such a noise, it

was all too much for the horse. With a shrill cry of it's own it threw it's master off it's back and bolted.

With a soldier's skill the man rolled to absorb the impact, next second he was on his feet, next second

his broadsword was in his hand. Out of the mist emerged the source of the noise, a tall figure. No body,

no face, just a black cloak and hood. For a moment the poor soldier was unsure if he was still dreaming,

then from the blackness under the hood, it spoke. It's voice was hazed like a fleeting wind but he heard the

words clear enough.

"It is not yet your time."

He had no idea what this could mean, but perhaps it was not to late to avoid conflict.

"Stand aside creature!" He barked at the figure. "You are in my way."

The figure seemed taken aback at this, cocking it's head to one side, then it unsheathed a long

pale sword from it's belt.

"Obey," It hissed. "Or you shall sleep with the worms this night."

The creature strode across the ground with surprising speed for it's cumbersome clothing, never before had he been

bested by man or beast and he certainly wasn't going to start with this mortal. He swung a quick opening

strike but the man was surprisingly quick, and his lightweight travelling gear made him nimble in comparison

to the heavy armour the creature bore under his cloak. Undetered the creature struck again, from every angle

but the man never lost ground. Something was wrong, what was keeping this man standing? Maybe just pure

determination? No, it was deeper than that. He knew this man had a purpose and he was not to kill him if he could

help it. He was distracted by thought and his opponent swung his sword out of nowhere making a deep slash

in the cloaked figure. Another piercing scream shattered what was left of the forest silence and the man stepped back,

his hands firmly over his ears to shut out the evil sound. The figure was doubled up, the blade had pierced him but not

deeply. The soldier was back on his feet with his sword in hand, only then did he discover that it had rusted away

to nothing. The creature swooped in for the kill, this man had now insulted his honour and must not be allowed to

escape with his life. As an overhead swing caught him off guard the man feebly raised the rotting hilt of

his sword which was promptly cleaved in two, a different sort of cry filled the air as the man felt the sword enter his

body. He gave a great gasp, then fell limp. The creature stood up over it's kill, still alive? Better to take the head, just

to be sure. Once more the pale blade swung downwards, and was stopped. Not expecting this, the creature wheeled

round to face this new opponent.

"What grace has given to me, let it pass to him, let him be spared."

The man sighed, another dream. Oh well, at least the voice had improved.

"To you I bestow this gift of my people, it braces the soul and binds the hearts of others."

As a sense of euphoria settled over the man it became painfully clear that this was no dream, he sat up and his eyes

fluttered open. He was on his back, with a gaping open wound in the stomach. And kneeling over him, was a beautiful

woman. For a moment he was captivated by her, unable to say anything, then he came to his senses.

"Where is the phantom that attacked me?" He asked urgently. She smiled reasuringly.

"I drove him away." She said simply. Not wanting to believe a woman had outdone him the man sat up, only to see

that his beautiful saviour was wearing a red leather armoured tunic and sporting an impressive looking curved

blade from her belt.

"I live because of your bravery lady." He said gratefully. "What favour might I grant you?" She shook her head.

"There is no time, we must find you equipment and heal your wounds." She dashed off down the road, beckoning him

to follow.


	2. Chapter 2 The She Elf

**Chapter 2 The She Elf**

As the pair of them ran through the dense forest the Gondorian tried to take in all that had happened to him in the past few minutes and who was this mysterious woman.

_She is one of the elves of middle earth, they are a departing race who are leaving these shores._

"Oh lovely!" The man groaned, "This is all I need."

_For years beyond count they lived in harmony with this world, awed by it's wonders. This elf is a warrior among her kind, do not underestimate them. Many have lived for thousands of years, and posess wisdom and ability far beyond that of mortal man, and now one of their kind has smiled upon you._

"Wonderful, just wonderful." The woman looked back

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." He answered quickly, if he told her the truth she would think him mad. Then the gravity of what the voice had said hit him, this woman was an elf. And not just an elf, a warrior. Well that explained how she was able to drive off the specter, but maybe she could help him. Suddenly a noise sounded through the trees, a harsh guteral sound.

"I heard a voice, on the road." He hissed, the elf nodded.

"Yes."

"It could be..."

"Patience." Annoyed at being silenced the man strode in front of his saviour blocking her path.

"I'm looking for Boromir of Gondor, have you seen him." He demanded, She looked at him blankly and slightly haughtily.

"No, but I do see orcs ahead." The poor man didn't even have time to register this latest information when an orc burst from the bushes behind him. He yelped and sidestepped his blade reaching for his own only to remember it was thoroughly destroyed in the previous encounter. The orc however didn't get a second chance. The young woman had drawn her blade and stroked it neatly across the creatures throat. As the ugly thing collapsed the man opened his mouth to compliment her but she held up a hand to silence him, without a word she vanished into the bushes. Noises were heard, the sounds of a great many orcs, dying suddenly.

"Inside Gondorian, your wounds must be healed." The elf said kindly beckoning him into a vast storehouse a few hours later. He stepped wearily over the threashold, expecting far less than what he saw.

"Weapons, provisions. The elves are very resourcefull." He exclaimed, his host smiled.

"Long have we kept such way stations for times of great need." The man felt the need to sit down but felt he had to introduce himself first.

"I am Berethor, captain of the citidal guard of Gondor." He said bowing deeply. The Elf bowed in kind.

"I am Idrial, I serve Galadriel. Lady of light." It didn't matter much to Berethor, at least now they had names. "It is too dark to continue but I would ask your help for tomorrow." Berethor sat down heavily beside the fireplace.

"You saved my life you may ask what you will." She took a seat next to him, lighting the fire.

"Well, I came to Eregion with a caravan of elves from Lothlorien."

"You mean to leave Middle Earth?" She shook her head as this firelight danced on her face.

"I do not wish to leave yet though many in my group do. I was separated from them and I wish to find them tomorrow with your help." Berethor nodded, a simple enough task. Find a large group of elves, they did have a habit of drawing attention to themselves.

"I will help you, but first answer me this. If you do not mean to leave this land, then why do you journey across dangerous ground such as this?" The elf looked thoughtful, and for a while simply stared into the fire. Then finally she said carefully.

"I was looking for something." Berethor shrugged and started looking for a place to sleep.

"Did you find it?" He said over his shoulder. Idrial smiled softly and returned to watching the flames.

"I think so."

"Why do you rest?" Berethor woke from his slumber with yet another voice pounding in his ears. Grumbling he turned on his side trying to block out the sound but it seemed to resonate from within his head. "I said why do you rest?" Berethor blinked, this was new. True a voice occasionally spoke to him but never spoke with him, actually responding in kind.

"I need rest if I am to help Idrial tomorrow." He mumbled.

"The elf is not of your concern."

"You told me earlier today to trust her, that she smiled upon me."

"It matters not, you have another task." Berethor was about to tell the voice exactly where he could put this next task of his when he remembered, he did have another mission. A very important one, he had to find Boromir of Gondor. How could he have been so stupid, he didn't have time to be rushing around with this elf. He didn't even have time to be lying in this bed, Boromir must be found. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed ignoring the pain in his wounds, there was plenty of equipment here to use. With luck he could catch up with Boromir before he even reached Rivendell. He quickly dressed in some strong travelling clothes and strapped on a few pads. Next he selected a sword from the rack, thirty inches long with a hand and a half hilt. Finally he strapped a supply pack to his back and grabbed a leather roundshield he found by his door. He glanced out of the window, it was morning already. The sun's first rays were bleeding through the darkness. Quickly and quietly he shuffled down the stairs and into the open air.

"Oh, you're awake!" Berethor nearly jumped out of his skin as the voice cut through the morning air. He spun around to see Idrial fastening the last of her equipment to her belt.

"Why are you up so early?" He demanded, she shrugged.

"I always get up this early, though I was planning to wait a few more hours before attempting to rouse you. Why are you up so early?" Berethor turned away uncomfortably.

"It was just a dream I had." The more he looked at this woman's face the more he wanted to help her and he knew that his mission had to be completed. "Listen I..." But before he could ask her to release him from his promise the whole clearing was engulfed in cawing. Both he and Idrial ducked as no less that a hundred crows flew overhead.

"Crebain spys!" Idrial shrieked. Berethor shook his head trying to clear it.

"What?"

"My caravan is still in the area, they're in danger."

"That is ridiculous, how could crows..." But as he watched the birds something stirred in him, some knowing that something was wrong. "On second thought you are right, those crows seem guided by some fell purpose."

"They are in the service of Isengard," She said already running towards the trees. "The white wizard has betrayed us, hurry!" Without thinking Berethor plunged into the trees after her.

"Well." He thought. "Boromir would be at Rivendell a while, there was no reason why he couldn't help a little longer."


	3. Chapter 3 Elven Mysteries

**Chapter 3 Elven mysteries**

_"The Elves forsake middle earth, never to return. Some of them shall briefly shelter in Rivendell. But evil grows strong in the tower of Orthanc, for one of my kind now serves the enemy. Saruman the White has embraced madness, and wages war against this land. He covets greater power than you can imagine, I have learned first hand of Saruman's audacity, your sword is much needed here."_

"What are you doing?" Asked Idrial curiously, Berethor shook his head.

"Just humming a song of my home." He replied cheerily, in truth he was trying to drown out the old man who kept talking in his head. It seemed to be back to normal, no longer actually talking to him. But the whole ordeal made Berethor thoughtfull. Idrial looked at him quizically.

"What now?"

"It's nothing." Nothing indeed it was, they had been scowering the forest all day in search of the elf caravan and had not found sight nor sound of them.

"Perhaps they left the area?" Berethor suggested hopefully, Idrial shook her head.

"I have to be sure."

"Exactly how sure do you have to be?" He wined, she shot him a look.

"A sure as is possible."

"How sure is that?"

"As sure as you were born to complain." The two of them sat in silence on the forest floor, they were both tired and tense.

"I apoligise." Berethor said finally. "I don't mean to be ungrateful for you saving my life." Idrial nodded curtly.

"Accepted." Then they heard it, or to be more precise Idrial heard it. "Do you hear that?" She whispered.

"What?"

"Voices on the wind." Berethor strained his head trying to hear but couldn't.

"I don't hear anything..." He began but found Idrial had already risen to her feet and was running down a nearby path. Berethor sighed.

"Here we go again." He muttered panting after her.

It wasnt at all long before Berethor could also hear the voices, they were many and different in pitch but they all sounded agitated.

"Here!" Idrial called from a few meters ahead. Berethor burst out of the bushes and into a clearing, not seeing the tree root bellow him he fell flat on his face, however he did manage on the way down to see a group of elves. There could have been no more than twelve of them but even they seemed to radiate light and energy, just like Idrial. Then he saw the large group of black clad monsters flanking the party.

"Orcs are amongst them." Idrial shouted helping him to his feet.

"There are to many of them, they have no chance." Berethor snarled already charging towards them. He drew his weapon and raised it high, the first orc didn't even know what hit him. By the time the isengard raiding party realised what was going on Berethor was already dragging his blade out of the fourth enemy's skull.

"Attack!" One bellowed but they had underestimated this man, he wasn't captain of the citidel guard for no reason.

"Typical orc." He bellowed, decapitating two more in one swing. "No skill, no sense, no manners!" By now there were no more than four left, and they were starting to doubt their chances.

"You'll pay for this scum!" The leader shouted as they retreated into the trees, as a parting shot Berethor hurled his sword through the air and into the leader's chest. He struggled for a few seconds, then hung still. Berethor took a deep breath then approached the party where Idrial was caring for the wounded.

"Are you all alive?" He asked breathlessly.

"Thanks to you." Idrial said gratefully. "You fight with the strength of twenty." Berethor turned away.

"Yet you defeated the monster I could not." The elf got to her feet.

"No no no, I used magic to defeat the wraith," She said hurridly. "I could not have matched him in swordplay as you did." Berethor accepted the compliment grudgingly. He was a little distracted by the fact one elf would not stop smiling at him, Idrial saw it too.

"Please make sure there are no orcs left in the area." She said, Berethor nodded and left the clearing. As soon as he had dissapeared the elf turned to her companion.

"You have found him then." The elf murmered.

"You must'nt behave like that around him." Idrial hissed. "He will suspect something."

"Suspect what?" Berethor had strode back out of the trees and had already rejoined them.

"It's nothing." Said Idrial a little too quickly. "Hasten to Rivendell." She told her company, quickly changing the subject. "We have cleared the road for you."

"What?" Berethor said, a little confused. "You will not be joining them." Idrial shook her head.

"I wish to aid you in your mission since you helped me with mine." Berethor shook his head firmly.

"No no no no, You saved my life I help you. We're even." The elf put her hands on her hips.

"You think one errand makes up for your life, it must have very little value?" She waited for an answer, when none came she said. "Then let me accompany you as payment for your debt." Berethor sighed, this was not an argument he could win.

"Why do you want to go with me so much?" He asked, the elf looked thoughtful for a few minutes until finally she said.

"I suppose I feel as though I must."

"So tell me again what your plan is?"

"Well if Boromir has already left Rivendell then you can bet he'll head to Mordor by the most direct route which would be the path of Caradras." Idrial eyed him strangely.

"How do you know he is going to Mordor?" Berethor shrugged.

"I don't know, I just do." Idrial strode on, unconvinced.

"May I ask why you need to find him?" She asked.

"I'm on a mission from the steward of Gondor to find him."

"But why?" She persisted.

"Why?" Berethor scoffed. "...Why...?" For the life of him he couldn't remember, it probably just slipped his mind.

"Berethor!" Idrial's cry pierced the mountain air from ahead, without thinking Berethor drew his weapon and pelted up the rocks to her side. Idrial was standing on a small plateau in the path, a plateau that stank of death. There were orc bodies everywhere, half rotting, glassy eyed.

"What happened here?" Berethor breathed, Idrial shook her head.

"I don't know." They were interupted by movement in the rocky wasteland. Two enormous hairy mounds of muscle and fur lumbered off the ridges to inspect this unexpected windfall. At once both Idrial and Berethor hid behind a large clump of bodies.

"Wargs." Berethor growled. Wargs were a breed of giant and vicious wolf, the mountains were a perfect habitat for them. What puzzled Berethor is that wargs do not eat orc meat if they can help it, why would they be here unless they were desperate. Then he saw it.

"Idrial." He hissed, gesturing to one of the bodies.

"What is it?" She hissed back, then she saw it too. Almost indistinguishable from the surrounding orcs lay a different body that was shivering feebly, he was hard to see but unmistakably...

"A man, badly injured." He made to leap to his feet but a slender yet surprisingly strong arm held him down.

"Wait for the wargs to approach." She insisted, Berethor struggled against his comrade.

"They'll kill him." He protested. The wargs heard the noise and their heads snapped around to face Berethor's hiding place, for a moment Idrial was distracted and Berethor used this to break free and charge the beasts.

"Hold on!" He bellowed, raising his sword. The wargs hesitated, then charged. Berethor faltered, a strong fighter he may have been but two wargs was to much for any man. Perhaps this had been a mistake. It happened in a flash of steel. The injured man was suddenly on his feet with a sword in his hand and had swung it into the path of the oncoming warg, the beast didn't even know what hit it. The other was more cautious but it didn't help him. The man instantly dropped his sword and whipped out a loaded bow from his back, firing a shot directly into it's neck.

"Hello lovelys." He roared with a bloody grin.


	4. Chapter 4 Survivor

**Chapter 4 Survivor**

Berethor stood speechless, in a few seconds this man had done what he and a company of men couldn't. It was only now he got a good look at his rescuer. The man was about his height but thinner, more willowy. Clad from head to toe in brown leather and cloth, unlike Berethor's bold battle atire everything about this man was designed to blend it. To top it off was a mane of wavey brown locks framing the face, a scruffy beard and an impish smile.

"You live." Stammered Berethor, stating the obvious. The man busied himself in retrieving his sword.

"No thanks to you." He said grouchily. "You want to lure the wargs in close using those crows."

"You were hunting them?"

"You are correct sir." He answered with great enthuseasm.

"You are of the dunedain." Idrial had emerged from her hiding place and was inspecting the newcomer.

"Indeed madam, I am Elegost. Also known as Twilinde, night archer and the finest bowmen of the mountain rangers." Said the man proudly, very pleased to be recognised. Idrial nodded awkwardly, getting perhaps more than she wanted.

"Well it is good to see you well." Berethor said with a hint of sarcasm. Elegost clearly didn't like this for he instantly turned on him.

"Oh it's wonderful I'm well, says the man who nearly got me killed with his hot head. As for you lady," He gestured to Idrial. "I am at your service." He bowed deeply.

"Do you require any further assistance?" Idrial asked politely, Elegost looked thoughtful for a while.

"You meant to help me, so perhaps you may." But he never got to tell Idrial exactly what he needed help with for at that very instant four more wargs emerged from the mountain.

"The rest of the pack I take it." Berethor said. "What was your plan for them ranger?"

"Were it not for you I would have set another trap by now." Elegost shot back.

"Kill each other later." Barked Idrial, drawing her weapon. Elegost's bow was up and ready before she finished her sentence. Thunk! A warg fell dead with an arrow in it's eye. Berethor meanwhile was having trouble, two of the wargs had chosen to corner him and he was running out of dodges. Suddenly Idrial's sword came out of nowhere and drove itself neatly into the creature's throat. Taking advantage of the dead warg's distracted friend, Berethor drove his own weapon down it's throat and twisted it. When it came free a torrent of blood followed in it's wake, the poor creature writhed on the ground until the Gondorian put him out of his misery. He and Elegost locked eyes grimly.

"One all." They both said in unison.

"I think you will find it's actually two, one, one." Idrial called from the top of the last warg's carcass.

_"This realm is far more dangerous than you can imagine Berethor. The elves here guard their ancient ruins and patrol the hills but their numbers dwindle. The only other force able to offer resistance is a small band of dunedain rangers. They are the survivors of a fallen kingdom yet still silently defend this land. For now huge wargs roam the countryside, they will slay many who are innocent of the danger, unless you lend the rangers your aid."_

"No, no, no, no and no!" Said Berethor to himself. "I am not helping the rangers if it means I must help this upstart."

"What's the matter Gondorian?" Elegost asked cheerily. "Talking to yourself, or do you have an imaginary friend?" Berethor shrugged off the taunt with some difficulty.

"What do you need us for anyway? The warg pack is defeated what possible reason could you need us now?" The ranger laughed.

"I will tell you, don't you worry. But first we must make our way to one of the elves healing alters." Berethor rolled his eyes.

"And I suppose when we get there we'll be roped into some impossible task that you want us to do."

"Oh stop your bickering." Idrial snapped, thinking perhaps joining up wasn't the best idea. "Look, we can rest there." Berethor looked up to see an outcropping of rocks, ideal for a campsite.

_"Ah, I see you have found our campsite. And yes we did shelter here from saruman but to no avail. His spys spotted us from miles away." _Berethor groaned. "Not again."

_"But we pressed on, forsaking the easy southern route for a more dangerous path over the mountains. But the white wizard held other plans and that road was denied us. Know this Gondorian, we are not far ahead of your brave company."_

A few hours later they were standing beside an elven healing alter surrounded by dead orcs.

"Why did you lead us into such an obvious trap?" Berethor shot at Elegost. "Perhaps you weren't aware but these lands are infested with orcs." Elegost ignored him and began poking and stabbing the corpses. "What are you doing anyway?" The ranger looked up from his work with that ever present smile.

"You want to be sure they're good and dead, some of them are mighty hard to kill. Yourself included." Berethor snorted.

"Not even these sacred places are safe." Murmered Idrial as she made a fire. "It's to dark to continue, we shall rest here tonight."

"How do I know I can trust this one?" Elegost was standing tall, sword pointing straight at Berethor. "I never once heard an elf turning over to the enemy, but a man? That's another story." Berethor snarled and reached for the hilt of his own weapon but Idrial intervened.

"I vouch for him, in the name of the lady of the Galadrim." She said firmly to the ranger. For a moment no one moved as Elegost considered his options.

"That is good enough for me." He said finally, sheathing his weapon. Berethor however was not so willing to yield.

"And how do I know I can trust you, where did you get those wounds?" Idrial made ready to stop another fight but Elegost was not provoked.

"At the hands of a Mordor orc, who's life I intend to shorten considerably." No one else spoke until they were sat down beside the fire and dusk was drawing in. "In the mountains we were attacked by goblins." Elegost continued suddenly. "We slew all but the orc, who escaped with something of great value to me."

"What are you talking about?" Berethor asked incredulously.

"You wanted to know why I need your help, I will tell you the tale in full." Elelgost chuckled.

"Who is this we Ranger?" Idrial asked curiously, Elegost's composure suddenly changed.

"I was in the company of a dwarf, a friend actually." Uninterested, Berethor pressed him for information.

"So what did this orc take from you?" Elegost's face flashed with annoyance.

"You help me slay him and you shall find out." Unsatisfied, Berethor sat down by the fire and sulked for a while. Finally he spoke.

"What have I got myself into? Instead of completing the task given to me, I end up trailing behind two of the strangest people I have ever encountered." Both his companions flashed him looks but he wasn't finished. "You rangers of the north are full of riddles, a drunken madman would make more sense than you." He turned to Idrial. "And who are you to speak for a ruler of the elves?"

"You must help me return to Lothlorien to warn the lady Galadriel, she must know of these dangers." Idrial insited, trying to calm him down. Berethor rolled his eyes.

"So now I must take you all the way to Lothlorien?" He growled. "I have a mission too, If I can't find captain Boromir..."

"Then what?" Idrial snapped. "Why is it so important you find him? What news do you bring of him?" Berethor paused.

"You do not need to know that." He said quietly, the truth being he still couldn't remember. Idrial shook back her braided auburn hair.

"When the time is right you will know all." She said gently. Berethor said nothing as she turned back to Elegost. "So tell us Ranger, what happened in the pass?" A shadow passed over the ranger's face before he answered.

"It was a bewitched fight," He said finally. "Voices echoing down from the mountains, then lightning struck all around us." Berethor looked up, thinking perhaps tha man was joking, but when he saw his face he realised this was not the usual Elegost speaking. "The dwarf fought like one possesed, but a landslide carried him away."

"I'm sorry." Idrial said quietly, Elegost's head snapped round to hers.

"Don't be, he's alive. I know it." He said, his voice sounding much less sure. "Before we were...separated, he gave me a map, a gift of sorts." His eyes stared back into the fire. "But I could not withstand the dark powers that ruled the mountain that night. As I lay there burning, that Mordor orc ripped the map away and fled down the mountain."

"I'm sorry for your friend ranger." Berethor said suddenly. "But if what you say is true, the dwarf could not have survived." Elegost chuckled.

"Clearly you don't know this dwarf. I'd better find that map before I find him, he will slaughter me when he finds out I lost it. It revealed the secret entrance to a forgotten realm."

"Moria." Idrial breathed. "And what of the dwarf?"

"We shall no doubt find him nearby," Elegost said, this time with more confidence. "It would take more than a few goblins to stop that dwarf."


	5. Chapter 5 Old Friend

**Chapter 5 Old friend**

As night fell Berethor had much to think about, he had a task to do. He had to find Boromir, but he kept getting sidetracked. They were now tracking an orc in Eregion, that was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. And they had to go chasing after a dwarf who probably died in battle anyway. Not to mention this elf asking him to take her all the way to Lothlorien. That was on the other side of the mountains for heaven's sake. He looked at his sleeping companions. Elegost, dunedain ranger. He did not like him. He did not like him at all. He knew more than he was telling him, of that he was certain. Idrial, elf of the woods. Beautiful as the moon but twice as mysterious. Only now did Berethor understand the fey attraction that all elves possesed, even now he felt a growing need to be close to her.

"She probably used that to get me to help her." He growled softly to himself. Then he scolded himself, she saved his life. It was the least he could do for her.

_"Why do you tarry?" _Berethor groaned. _"Why do you wait, they are both asleep. Why not leave them now and finish your mission?" _Berethor rubbed his sleepy eyes.

"Because I am bound to them through honour, I cannot simply abandon them." He waited for a reply, but none came. Thank goodness. Hoping to drown out the voices, Berethor finally lay down to sleep.

"I still don't feel comfortable being here." Berethor said, trying to disguise his nerves. From the alter they had scoured nearly all of Eregion in about a week, and were now in a forest clearing full of dead trolls. That is they spent too long in the sun and turned to stone. All dead but still being around these stone hulks was far from comforting.

"Don't worry." Elegost sniggered. "They won't bite." Elegost had followed both the orc's trail and that of what appeared to be a dwarf, Berethor was sceptical about a dwarf or orc that would take a trip around the whole land before finally ending up here. Elegost had promtly asked him if he had been trained in any form of tracking and that if not he should keep his gargantuan mouth shut and let the professionals do their job.

"Can you find any trace?" Idrial asked the ranger kindly, but Elegost was away. Running down a path where yet more troll statues stood.

"Fresh tracks!" He shouted over his shoulder. "The dwarf came this way!" Berethor and Idrial set off in hot pursuit behind. After a hundred yards they both found themselves beside the entrance to an old tomb, the gigantic stone door in the rock face looked a little out of place among the nature. Idrial bent to inspect the tracks.

"He is heavy for one so small." She said haughtily.

"I would be careful not to say that around him." Laughed Elegost's voice from inside the tomb. He waited for Berethor's sceptical response, but it never came. Berethor's attention was elsewhere, he was the only one to notice one of the troll statues was still moving and was bearing down on Idrial.

It happened in a flash of movement, Berethor rushed in front of Idrial, shield raised high. At the same moment the troll swung it's huge arm to strike down it's foe. The shield took the impact but the force carried the Gondorian straight through the tomb door, Berethor got one look at Elegost's startled face before he was slammed into the back wall with a force human bones were never meant to withstand, it was only his armour that prevented his spine from shattering. The troll snorted, satisfied this enemy had been dealt with. His attention was about to turn to Idrial when the coffin at the back of the tomb burst open and something flew out of the wreakage and into the troll's arm. The troll yowled in pain as Berethor watched with bemusement from the floor at the thing poking out of the creature's muscle, it was a stout battleaxe. From the corner of his eye he saw a figure rise from the coffin, in the halflight he could not see him clearly but he didn't get the chance to try. Their saviour bounded across the chamber with surprising speed and tore his heapon from the troll's forlimb, the troll screamed and lashed out but his attacker had danced out of reach. Taking a moment to steady himself, the mighty warrior began to charge the creature, axe spinning like a windmill. Before the troll knew what was happening, his opponent had slipped under his guard and delivered a devistating uppercut to the troll's chin. The poor creature staggered back and collapsed, it was dead before it hit the floor. In three leaps Idrial was at Berethor's side but the man knew it was too late, he would never fight again. He could barely move. The last thing he saw was Idrial, mouthing something and even though he could no longer hear her, he felt their power.

"Wake up Gondorian." Berethor's eyes fluttered open to see Elegost's face inches from his own, upon seeing his reaction Elegost grinned and jumped back.

"Sleeping beauty's awake." He called out of the door.

"Can't you give a broken man his mercy," Berethor shot furiously. "I will never walk again." Elegost looked quizically at him.

"If you care to stand up I believe your legs are in perfect working order." Berethor scoffed, then noticed something was different. He could feel his legs, in fact they felt just as they had done when he woke up. The man jumped to his feet, he actually jumped. He felt incredible, far better than he had a right to be yet there it was.

"Idrail wouldn't stop working on you." Elegost explained, Berethor looked at him incredulously.

"But no medicine could do this." He protested, Elegost winked and tapped his nose.

"Medicine had nothing to do with it."

"Is this him?" Said a new voice, Berethor turned round and made a few base observations. One, the figure was four and a half feet tall. Two, most of his top section was hair. From these results he decided that this newcomer was a dwarf. Berethor had only seen dwarfs twice before, they were young messengers that came to Minas Tirith to bring news to Denethor, once when he was five and a second time he was seventeen. This dwarf was much older. His entire face was covered in scars, never had Berethor seen anyone cut so badly and still be breathing. His rugged face was wreathed in a shaggy mane of coal black hair, greying in places. His plain black armour gave him a somewhat stout appearance, and his battleaxe hung at his waist.

"It seems you saved our lives, I thank you." Berethor said, rather more formally than he would have liked. The dwarf's face spread into a smile.

"I just surprised him, any one of you could have done the same." He spoke in a thick accent and his voice sounded like stones grinding together, both these traits made him difficult to understand.

"May I ask why you are here of all places?" Berethor began carefully but it was Elegost who reacted, not the dwarf.

"That is my friend Gondorian." He said quietly. "And I shall not forgive those who disrespect him." The dwarf put up a hand to calm Elegost before introducing himself.

"My name is Hadhod son of Hamslef, from the great line of Fundin." He rumbled. "And as for why I am here Gondorian, it is an obvious place for my friend to track me to." Berethor blinked.

"You knew he wouldn't believe you dead?" Hadhod sniggered.

"He knew me well enough to know I won't go down so easily." Berethor looked past him at the carcass of the troll.

"Aparently not." He muttered.


End file.
